The Long, Sad, and Hilarious Story of Trump City - Current Affairs - April 14th, 1855
On a map of Oregon Territory is a small dot located on the northern bank of Lake Abert called “Trump City.” Take a four wheel drive along the dirt road that follows the former route of US 395 into the Oregon Territory, and you’ll find a collection of decaying shacks and shipping containers. This is all that remains of Trump City.
When The Event happened, the few supporters of the 45th President had been as shocked as everyone else. The disruptions to the Internet had caused many of the online communities they had used to organize on to vanish from the Internet, with only Reddit’s The_Donald being the only place they had left, before Reddit’s management shut it down.
In response to their marginalization, these Trump Supporters decided that the best course was to establish a settlement in Oregon. In their words, it was the only way to “escape the oppression of the libtards in Sacramento*.” Over Whatsapp and Discord, they organized a fleet of vehicles and materials to build a settlement in Oregon Territory. They eventually settled on the northern bank of Lake Abert. On February 2, they took their supplies, and headed to the location of their new settlement, dubbed Trump City.
The new settlers pulled no stops in making their new settlement, even going so far as to issue their own currency, styled after the pre-event bills, on printer paper, that wasn’t even laminated. The currency was in the pre-event style, but had a photo of Trump on the front(varies by denomination) and, surprisingly, a risqué photo of Melania Trump on the back. However, stuff like this would never make up for the tremendous fuckup that was Trump City.
Not even a month after the establishment of Trump City, problems started popping up. First, Lake Abert has a high salt content, which causes rust. Considering that a good deal of the homes were trailers and containers, this caused corrosion to start. But the more immediate result was the fact that they couldn’t grow enough crops to sustain Trump City.
On paper, this wasn’t much of a problem. They had brought enough food to last at least a year with proper rationing, as well as some seeds that could withstand the salt rich soil.
But another problem, one that exacerbated the first, was the fact that a good chunk of Trump City was made of conservative boomers and former members of sites like 4chan or r/The_Donald. Many Trump City settlers were not prepared for the problems that faced them.
In the first year, the harvest was half of the initial prediction, forcing them to start cutting into their reserves to live. This prompted some to bail out early, a move that with hindsight, proved to be wise.
Back in Oregon, Trump City was busy with maintaining and expanding its patchwork infrastructure. With a wood Gasifier, they were able to maintain diesel generators for electricity and provide fuel for the diesel trucks, RVs, and even one person’s Volkswagen Jetta.
However, the food problem loomed over Trump City no matter what. So some settlers tried to contact downtime settlements in Oregon. Talks were getting places, up until they tried paying for things with the Trump City currency. So by the time the next harvest came in, their reserves had completely run out.
As a result, the first major “wave” of Trump City settlers started flowing into California, some getting arrested for various crimes, including stealing a gasifyer and robbing a convenience store for Doritos.
Meanwhile, Trump City was still suffering. Not only had the downtime Oregonians refused to trade with the Trump City settlers, they also ran out of reserves. As a result, the town quickly died out due to desertion, starvation, and downright idiotic decisions. What was left was the decaying row of shacks, containers, and a Jetta somehow still in decent condition three years later.
*their words
Leimert Park Metro Station - April 10th, 1852
For Moses Sutton, Los Angeles was a breath of fresh air. In the year and a half since he had come to California as a stowaway, there were so many things that he had come to appreciate.
Standing at the railroad platform underground, it felt like his life had gone full circle. He had gotten out of the south on the underground railroad and had decided to try his luck in the goldfields of California.
Of course, it didn’t take long for the captain to find him stowing away. But clearly God had been with him and the Captain let him work off his passage, on the condition that he hide when they were in port, so as not to tip off any bounty hunters who’d see any black person as a runaway.
It was when the ship got into San Diego that he had noticed that things were different. He had been led into an enormous building next to the harbor, one that he would later learn was called a convention center, and looked over by a doctor, stuck with needles so that he wouldn’t get sick anymore and sat in a theater with a bunch of others while a video had explained how California was from the future.
It had been happenstance that he had ended up meeting some members of the Democratic Socialists of Los Angeles who had put him in contact with California bureaucrats willing to look the other way, and now as far as anybody knew, Moses Sutton had been born in Gardena in 1995, grew up bouncing between Huntington Park and Willowbrook and was now going to Long Beach City College to study engineering.
As he looked down the platform, he saw the lights of an approaching train illuminate the tunnel. He couldn’t help but realize the irony of it, the Underground Railroad had gotten him out of the south, and now here he was, standing on a platform waiting for a train on a
literal underground railroad.
California House - Washington DC.
Senator John Hale (FS-NH) poured over the stack of forms that California had given to every prospective candidate for the 1852 Presidential Election. The sheer volume of paperwork had threatened to overwhelm them, but it had been necessary in order to access the ballot for California’s Primary Election.
Which had been another surprise. Gone was the usual method of state party conventions behind closed doors to choose a candidate to endorse or the dealings that would happen at conventions to choose a candidate.
In its place was a simple solution. A primary election held at the beginning of the year where the voters directly could choose from various candidates within each party, with the state’s delegates being pledged to their particular candidate. From the background materials he had been given, this had been a creation of the “progressive era” at the beginning of the 20th century, which had overseen a number of reforms, such as the direct election of senators, progressive income taxation, ballot initiatives & referendums, and the creation of a civil service system.
“What the hell is an FEC Candidate Identification Number?” He asked to his fellow abolitionist, Senator Salmon P. Chase (FS-OH).
“Beats me.” He replied while looking at the instructions on the form. “I think they assign you one if you haven’t run before.”
The mandatory disclosure forms that were required were a shock to them as well. It had seemed like California was insistent on knowing where every dollar on a political campaign came from. The Californians he had talked to were of the opinion that they were a pain but they kept politicians at least somewhat honest.
“What’s this T-10 form supposed to be about?” Asked Chase. “Top ten campaign contributors?”
Hale read over the form for a bit.
“It says that its for donations higher than $1 million.”
“One million? That’s-oh wait, that’s in California money. What’s the price in our money?”
Hale read the annotation on the form near the million dollar figure.
“According to the form, it’s around $30 thousand.”
“That makes a lot more sense.” Chase replied. “It at least shows the kinds of people who stand behind a candidate.”
“I know at least a few politicians who would get into some hot water if they had to fill out these forms.” Hale snarked.
“Pray tell me why it is so.” Chase asked, a small grin showing.
“Because all the donors go Tammany Tammany Tammany Slavers Tammany Tammany Tammany”
Chase chuckled at that remark. “You’re not wrong, but you forgot to add the Forty Thieves to that list.”
“Heh, true.” Hale replied, as they continued going through the necessary forms.
Battleship Iowa Museum - San Pedro
The USS Iowa was without a doubt, the finest piece of engineering that Marcel had ever seen. He was, of course familiar with the specs of it from World of Warships, but seeing it up close was a different thing altogether.
“Welcome aboard the USS Iowa” said one of the volunteers. “Follow the line on the deck for the self-guided tour, otherwise there’s a guided tour that starts at 1:45.”
As Marcel followed the line on the deck, it quickly led him to a set of benches with a TV in front of them, showing a short film on repeat about the Iowa’s history.
Oh he knew most of it, but it was still interesting to see the long and storied history of the ship.
“Hey everyone! Welcome aboard the Battleship Iowa Museum, I’ll be your tour guide today.” Said a young guy holding a microphone. “Can everybody hear me okay?” He asked to a murmur of agreement.
“The Iowa here was the lead ship of her class of battleship, and she was launched in 1942, at the start of World War 2.” He explained.
After hearing the guide explain the most basic history of the ship that any World of Warships player would have been familiar with, Marcel piped up.
“How hard would it be to get this ship into combat again?” He asked.
Immediately, everyone around him started groaning.
“You know.” Explained the guide through a forced smile. “We’ve been getting that question a lot since The Event. The truth is that getting the Iowa into fighting condition would cost more than it would take to build two new battleships from scratch, and
that would take up even more resources than it would to build a lot more Arleigh Burkes.”
“Oh come on.” Marcel complained. “An Iowa would absolutely dwarf any other ship in the seas right now. California Über Alles man.”
“Look.” Said the guide. “Metal fatigue is a thing. Galvanic corrosion is a thing. Unlike a wooden ship where you can just replace pieces of wood as they rot until there’s nothing of the original left, the steel superstructure and armor plating are one and done things.”
“Okay, but I mean…” interrupted Marcel.
“There’s also the problem of spare parts.” Explained the guide. “There’s no other Iowas anywhere in the world to cannibalize spare parts from! So you could take it out to sea for about four months before something broke and you’d be dead in the water!”
“I know you mean well.” Said the guide. “But the truth of the matter is that the sheer logistics of the issue mean that the Iowa is best served staying right here in San Pedro as a museum.”
CalEFDA Distribution Center - Sunset & Western, Hollywood.
The corner of Sunset and Western in Hollywood had been the site of one of the most iconic examples of Los Angeles’ uneven development boom. The construction of a Target on that corner had been started in 2012, only for construction to stop a year later when the La Mirada Neighborhood Association sued to stop construction on the 74 foot tall building, saying that it violated the high limits of the city’s neighborhood plan.
The resulting lawsuit had halted construction in 2014, leaving the half-finished store as a perpetual eyesore in Hollywood, one that would eventually spawn twitter and facebook pages about the “Target Husk.”
The lawsuit had worked its way through the legal system where they ultimately ruled against the builders, finding that the city of Los Angeles had improperly allowed Target to violate height limits.
In response, the LA City Council changed the zoning code for that area to allow for taller structures, enabling construction to proceed.
And the La Mirada Neighborhood Association sued again, against the city this time, saying that they did not fully take into consideration the effects on traffic, noise, pollution, and greenhouse gas emissions from allowing retail stores taller than 35 feet.
This new lawsuit wound its way through the court system, keeping the building in its perpetual state of incompleteness.
It was only until October of 2018 that the California Supreme Court came out in favor of the city, and allowed construction to resume.
It was then that The Event happened.
While there were no more legal challenges towards resuming construction on the East Hollywood Target, there was the new and bigger problem that the Minneapolis-based company had effectively ceased to exist with The Event.
Enter the California Emergency Food Distribution Agency and the California Construction & Conservation Corps, two agencies that had been hastily created in the panic after The Event in order to keep food on everybody’s tables and to provide jobs building infrastructure for the anticipated large numbers of unemployed once the reality of The Event sunk in.
CalEFDA had quickly taken ownership of the building from Los Angeles County, and the CCCC had gotten to work finishing the construction and fitting out the interior, and by the end of 1851, the first of its kind public food bank had been built.
Operating on a “vegetable box” model that had been used in countless Community Supported Agriculture programs across the state, Hollywood residents received a weekly box of rice, fruits, vegetables, and a choice of meat, with the exact mix varying week by week based on availability. Alongside of this was something akin to a convenience store for less common items like coffee, alcohol, wheat bread, or chocolate, as well as a cafeteria serving hot food that residents could visit for free once a day.
The building had been drafted as a pilot program, a way to ride out the distribution and unemployment crises caused by The Event, ensuring that anybody could get something to eat even if their employment had dried up because of it.
Looking at the crowded cafeteria during the lunch rush, Jane Quinn grabbed a seat at one of the large communal tables where some others had already sat down.
“Oh my God you have no idea how good it feels to be eating real food again.” Said somebody down the table.
“Tell me about it.” Said somebody else. “I did a stint at Camp Springs, ate downtime food my first day, sick for a week.”
“Was it the bread? Because that shit was mostly sawdust when I was at Springs.” They replied.
“No.” He explained. “It was the milk.”
“Jesus.” They exclaimed. “You drank downtime milk? You are a braver person than I was.”
The man shuddered as he recalled the experience of drinking whatever it was that the downtimers called ‘Milk.’ “They call it that, but that wasn’t any kind of milk I’ve ever seen. It was slightly bluish white and left a yellow tinge on anything it touched.”
“That bad?” Jane asked.
“If the LA Beast was still around, even he wouldn’t have touched it.” He replied.
“Whatever happened to that guy anyway?” Asked somebody else.
“Apparently he moved back to Baltimore a few years before The Event. So he missed it.” Came the reply from the table.
As the conversation continued around Jane, she realized that the disparate group of tourists who had been stranded in Hollywood after the Event, and the locals who had lived in East Hollywood for years because it had been cheap had turned what had used to be a half-built Target into an a center of the community.
Blythe California
Scott sipped his latte waiting for the last of his group to get ready, since making an expedition into Arizona... well what ONCE was Arizona was not easy. Two flat bed trucks loaded down with gear, 4 SUVs one of which had a National Guard squad in it, another with a linguistics team from a university, another SUV with engineers and 3 sports vans. All the vehicles were sporting magnetic decals, it wasn't like California's new post office was better funded than the old. The flatbeds sported decals of whatever company lent them out, the SUVs were all different colors, the fuel truck was from the military and the work vans were converted from some almond farm in the Central Valley. He quirked a smile at his current location. A year ago he would have been standing right in the middle of Westbound I-10 and what was Blythe's Agricultural Station; the CHP blocked off the road with jersey barriers going eastbound after the last California exit, but the Westbound remained open. Blythe Agricultural station was one of the few ingress points across the Colorado River, which was much higher than he ever saw it. He sipped the last of his latte, chucking it into the wastebin, thank god the last little bit of civilization didn't vanish. Nina was waving him over from the only SUV that actually had a painted on CAPS logo of an owl flying through the air with "Survey Office" printed in black letters under it. "So boss, finally going to Phoenix? I hear the Yuma teams got directed to Tucson."
Scott nodded, "Yeah, we get to try and cross the Gila River, the 40 crew made Flagstaff last week... Well where it SHOULD be." Although he didn't say it, they would probably be folded into Blythe since Sacramento was worried about the Navajo nation, and there was limited interest in a new I-40. He'd been as far out as Phoenix before on a ranger trip but had only seen Navajo through binoculars a handful of times. The Great Basin wasn't hospitable even in the 19th century.
Nina laughed as she got in on the driver side signalling the caravan to ready for departure. What once was a 2 hour drive would take the better part of 8 hours, they'd likely have to camp out at Maricopa Outpost. Maricopa actually was one of the older outposts in Arizona, but only because some survivalist nuts tried to get out there before CHP restricted traffic. They had tried to set up the "State of New Arizona" and call together people to support them... They did not, after a month all they had to show for it was some RVs out of gas. It wasn't the noblest origin, but they had gotten a couple quonsets out there and a radio antenna last month. The RVs had remained and were even used as temporary housing now.
He switched his smartphone to airplane mode as the SUV left the Asphalt road and went to dirt road. It was a well worn dirt road at this point, the Army Corps of engineers wanted to get an Arizona frontage road up to Parker. They had set that up in the first month. Half a mile from town they came across a sign someone had set up. "I-10 Dead Ahead, TURN BACK INCOMPLETE PASS. Left to New Mojave Road 65 miles to Parker Crossing. Right. Just Don't" That one wasn't far from the mark. South from Blythe in Arizona was pretty rough terrain to pass by car. Straight was out until Caltrans finished the I-80 to Reno, and could spare the equipment to make the pass again.
"Adjusting, Turn right to I-10 Eastbound" voiced the NAV system. Nina swore and shut it off as she led to convoy to the dirt road. "Sorry Boss, forgot to turn off the NAV ." he chuckled. "Navigation software is going to be borked for a LONG time."
"Got that right. At least we can go 55 on this stretch, we'll make the turn off about a third of the way to Parker and go through the pass to Quartz Outpost."
Nina nodded, "Following the Journeyman's beacons through the pass, we should make it by noon." This was why Nina was the driver and not him. Scott knew the history of the region, but Nina knew the terrain. She had been a journeyman one of those scouts who saw how far she could go, although he knew it was grief that prompted her journey. Her family was from Phoenix, and when California went back... well Arizona didn't. Counselling centers were overwhelmed for several months. Everyone worked through their grief their own way. "Did you set up this path?"
Nina nodded, "Yeah... me and a few others with posts, two by fours, car batteries and LED lanterns set up this beacon path. Compared to some teams we were down right professional. The Maricopa gang were nuts, they lost half their convoy in the pass. Probably spooked some natives seeing those wrecks."
Scott nodded, "Just how far east did you get Nina?"
She was quiet for a moment as she made the turn off the Army's dirt road, to a set of worn tire tracks going through the wilderness. A post with an LED lantern on it shown ahead. "Got as far east as San Antonio," she said simply, and grabbed the radio. "Quartz Outpost, this is CAPS Survey Group 3, we are heading through Margaret's Pass. ETA Noonish."
"Roger, Survey 3. You bringing our mail?" That was not a job Scott would do for six figures, being one of the two guys stationed at an outpost waiting once a week for mail. No internet, spotty radio signals if you were lucky, and mind numbing boredom. It was isolation beyond compare for 21st century humans. Besides the drone flights they did to keep an eye on things, they would go nuts. Last time Scott was at Quartz, the two attendants had started doing drone races about the area and hooked up LEDs to pulse different colors... Come to think of it probably kept downtimers away.
Getting to Quartz was difficult but once they got there, it was a pretty straight shot to Maricopa Outpost, or at least so Scott thought. The rest of the team took a 30 minute break while the tech staff went over the vehicles to make sure they were good to go to Maricopa. Quartz outpost was named because it was about where Quartzite was... used to... will be... ah screw it. It wasn't there now, and they tried to name outposts after SOMETHING from the uptime maps. Quartz outpost itself was pretty nice considering they were about 30 miles away from California now but because of the hills they were effectively a 60 mile drive back to Blythe and civilization. Two quonset huts, some wood pallets as some makeshift structure, a large steel pylon going up some 40 feet where the 50 star American Flag and California Flag flew. At least they had power here, he filled up the water tanks and walked over to Nina. "How'd the shocks hold up?" He really didn't want to have to leave vehicles behind besides the electric ATV.
Nina shook her head, "No, even the flatbeds made it through ok.” before tapping a handtruck with the back of her hand, “Well Courier? Deliver the mail.”
Scott rolled his eyes and grabbed the handtruck loaded with mail for the outpost, “I swear if you make One Platinum Chip joke you are walking back to Blythe.” He readjusted his cap of the California Postal Service and began pushing the cart with a keg and two filled plastic bins from the United States Postal Service. Even though it had been two years CAPS wasn’t going to relabel everything. Hell they barely repainted the trucks. In the distance he heard the flying to drones and RC craft, and saw two guys standing upon on a makeshift platform overlooking the Solar panels laid out behind the Quonset hut.
“I take it you two guys are the unlucky sods manning this outpost. Shouldn’t you one of you guys be on your noc shift?” he said straightening the handtruck up.
One of the men laughed, “You think any of us out here follow that manual? We used it for Toilet paper about a month ago.”
The other flew his drone copter in loops around the tower. “Don’t recommend it, really coarse. My tent come in?”
Scott’s foot tapped one of the cardboard boxes from an address near Modesto, “10 person Coleman tent. Quonset living too much for you guys?”
“You could say that. That thing is packed to the gills with telecom equipment,the armory cabinet, and medical refrigerator.”
“Also where we keep our venison.”
Scott got out his clipboard, technically they weren’t supposed to hunt but at the same time he would be hard pressed to say he wouldn’t too. “Aren’t there supposed to be 4 people to an outpost?”
The taller one shrugged taking his clipboard to sign, “Yeah, I haven’t heard of a 4 person outpost team outside of cell phone range of Cali.” Technically there was supposed to be 4 to cover all the shifts, but most of them didn’t have that many, and the manager was back in Blythe.
Taking the clipboard back, “What’s with the drones by the way? Recreation?”
The shorter one laughed, “Yeah, but also at night I have them fly in a circle around us if the wind is calm.”
“Why?”
“Scares away the natives, they think it’s a UFO when we flip on the rainbow LEDs.” Scott wasn’t sure if that was brilliant or moronic. Guess it depended on if it worked or not. Sighing… this is what would constitute the pinnacle of modern civilization going east.
USS Roosevelt - Guangzhou
A tour group consisting of a couple of bureaucrats, a few military personnel, a few businessmen, and officials form Hong Kong and Macau are currently finishing up a tour of the hangar space.
“...and to your left, you can see the lift used to carry planes above deck. If you have anymore questions, feel free to ask me or the booth operators.”
And with that, the group was left to their own devices.
Xi Liwei, a minor bureaucrat in Hong Kong, was one of the people who went onto the Roosevelt in the tour group. He, like the others in the group, were on the Roosevelt to learn about and learn from the Californians. As he walked around the hangar, he noticed the airline fuselage, restaurants serving all kinds of food from California, and mockups of all sorts of buildings.
But the one thing that stuck out to him the most was a book on Hong Kong. Specifically, a picture book of Hong Kong before the Event. The neon lights, the architecture, the tech, all of it fascinated him to no end.
At the Churro booth across from Xi, the guide helped herself to a free churro, making small talk with her new friend.
“I guess he’s taking a liking to the book” the architect remarked.
“Yep, he sure is.” the guide replied. “Remember back in Nagasaki when those Samurai played Battletoads? That was insane.”
“But it was funny as hell.”
Next to Xi was John Lewis, one of the Brits who had made himself at home in Hong Kong after the Opium War, as the group passed by a model of the ship they were on, along with a placard explaining how it worked me he couldn’t help but notice something.
“When you get right down to it, this is just a different type of steamer.” John remarked.
“Pardon?” Asked the guide.
“Yeah.” He said, pointing at a cutaway diagram on the ship. “This ‘reactor’ is just a different kind of firebox that makes heat. You’ve got a boiler here, and then this turbine must just be a different way of generating force instead of a piston and cylinder.”
For the Californians leading the tour, it was a reminder that downtimers were ignorant, not stupid, and that the frequent assumption among Californians that their technology was absolutely alien to the downtimers wasn’t exactly true. The operating principles were often the same, but the details were different, Uranium instead of coal and such.
But for John, the idea that for all the future technology on display here, it was still just a steamer was form of relief, a reminder that
The Californians were still human and not the gods coming down from Olympus or the decadent hedonists the British press liked to portray them as, depending on the day.
DowntimeOrientation.com
Downtime Orientation is a website to help downtimers “catch up” on the 178 years of cultural differences in order to acclimate to life in California. Here you will be connected with like minded individuals to help you acclimate to 21st century culture. Please take the attached personality exam to sort properly. The following is a list of user-contributed articles by uptimers written in order to help any downtimer acclimate to life in California.
Culture (23 Items)
Slavery: The Sin of our fathers Californian all wish to end.
What we wear, a guide to California fashion.
LGBTQ+: Not just a jumble of letters
The Waves of Feminism
Read More.
Popular Culture (1627 Items)
Science Fiction: From Jules Verne to Seth MacFarlane
A Cinematic history in 25 films
Video Games
The Evolution of Memes
The Abridged Series: The Abridged Series
Comics
Read More.
Politics (41 Items)
The United States Constitution: The 13th through 27th Amendment
Political Parties of California
The Imperial Presidency
Social Networks and You
Proposition What? A Downtimers Guide to the Initiative, Referendum and Recall system in California Politics.
Read More.
Science and Technology (127 Items)
Electricity and it’s shocking applications.
The Internet: An integrated communications network containing the sum of human knowledge… that we watch cat videos on.
History of Medicine: The Abridged Version.
Read more.
Law and Order (38 Items)
Your Legal Rights
Emancipation Proclamation
California Government and Downtime United States: A complicated relationship
Read More.
Maps (21 Items)
Geopolitics of 2018
Trails to the East.
Homesteading the Eastern Frontier.
Read More.
Ivanhoe Reservoir - Silverlake
“Okay, being told that there’s a lake filled with balls is one thing. Seeing it in person is another thing entirely.”
The people on the boat are looking out at the sea of balls floating in the reservoir. The balls are so cramped, the boat doesn’t even rock in the waves.
The downtimer on the boat turns to the driver. “Why are they even here in the first place?”
“Well,” The driver starts. “Chlorine is used to get rid of algae growth on reservoirs, and Bromide is a naturally occurring chemical in the water. Problem is that when they react, they create bromate, which is harmful for consumption. To prevent Bromate from forming when Chlorine is used, the county decided to cover the whole reservoir in shade balls to prevent the reaction from happening.”
“What about the evaporation thing? I heard that the shade balls slow the process.”
“Well, originally, that wasn’t the intent of the balls, but they block the sun well enough to slow it down. That’s actually part of the reason why they’re still being. Because of all the other benefits, we’re gonna be implementing these on a lot of the other reservoirs around Los Angeles.” The driver took a pause. “Well that and putting a gigantic tarp is unfeasible and just useless.”
“That make sense. Although I presume that it’s hard to drive a boat in a sea of balls.”
“Well, yes and no. It is hard to drive the boat through the balls, but when you’re standing still, the boat won’t move.”
“Guess that’s convenient.”
The boat made its way to the slipway where the boat trailer was parked. While this was happening, the downtimer observed a large truck dumping a shipment of shade balls. At that moment, the downtimer had an urge to make a pun.
“At least they didn’t drop the ball on this one” the downtimer said, to the collective groan of everyone else.
7/11 - Calexico
Miguel Ferraro was working a graveyard shift at the local 7/11. Late night shifts were already slow before the Event, but now it was almost barren, bar a few shoppers and the occasional stoner. That essentially left him and Jamie as the only ones in the store.
“Hey” said Miguel
“Yeah?” replied Jamie.
“You ever wonder why we’re here?”
“...Is that a Red vs Blue reference?”
“...I think? But anyways, people are going east to build shit, drivers are being paid to speed on the highways, and that bullet train thing is finally being made for real. So why are we here, in a 7/11 next to the border?”
“We’re here because we get paid do nothing for 8 hours.”
“True. Nothing beats getting paid to do nothing. But it does get mind numbingly boring at times.
I don’t mind getting paid to do jack shit, but even that gets tiring after a while.”
At that moment, Juan O’Hara came into the store.
A downtimer from across the border, Juan was getting accustomed to his new life in California. Living with 5 other people in a 3 person apartment, he drew the short stick and went to get groceries, which led him here.
One problem though, he has no idea where to find some of the items on the grocery list.
“Dude” Jamie said to Miguel. “Guy just came in looking disoriented. Seems to be a downtimer as well.”
“Looks like he came from across the border.” Miguel replied. “So definitely through whatever’s left of Mexicali. Or whatever’s gonna be Mexicali? Still screwy a year and a half later.”
“Anyways, go see what you can do to help.”
“Why me?”
“I can’t speak Spanish.”
“Fine. Could you cover the register for me?”
“Sure.”
Miguel made his way to where Juan was.
“Hola.” Miguel said “¿Estás buscando algo?” (Are you looking for something?)
“Sí.” Juan replied. “Estoy tratando de encontrar mis comestibles.” (Yes, I'm trying to find my groceries.)
“Ah! ¿Qué estás buscando?” (What are you looking for?)
“Aquí está la lista de la compra” (Here is the shopping list)
Miguel took a look at the shopping list.
“La leche está en la parte posterior, el pan está en el pasillo 3, la Fanta está en el pasillo 2, el alcohol está en el pasillo 6 y el cereal está en el pasillo 4.” (The milk is in the back, the bread is in aisle 3, the Fanta in aisle 2, alcohol in aisle 6, and the cereal in aisle 4.)
“Gracias” (Thank you)
“De Nada. Cuando estés listo, facturare tus compras en el mostrador.” (You’re welcome. When you’re ready, I’ll bill your groceries at the counter.)
After Juan gets all of the groceries on the list, he goes to the counter. Miguel scans all of Juan’s groceries, and makes a bit of small talk.
“¿Es esta su primera vez aquí?” (Is this your first time here?)
“Si, llegué aquí hace unos dos meses. Actualmente estoy compartiendo un apartamento con otras tres personas.(Yep, I arrived about two years ago. I’m currently sharing an apartment with three other people.)
“¿Te gusta aquí?”(Do you like it here?)
“Ciertamente es mejor que volver a casa, eso es seguro.”(It’s better than back home, that’s for sure.)
“Es verdad. ”(That’s true.)
“¿Puedo ver tu carta de Calfresh?”(May I see your calfresh card?)
“¿Es esto?”(Is this it?)
Juan pulls out an ebt card and gives it to Miguel
“Si”
“Entonces, ¿cuánto pago?”(So, how much do I pay?)
“Entonces, eso es un galón de leche, 3 panes de pan, 2 bolsas de arroz, una bolsa de trigo, una caja de palomitas de maíz, un paquete de 6 cervezas, 2 fantas, una caja de bocadillos de coco y agua. Las bebidas suman hasta 35 dólares. Tiene 6 libras de verduras, 3 libras de carne y una libra de fruta en su tarjeta EBT.”(So that's a gallon of milk, 3 loaves of bread, 2 bags of rice, a bag of wheat, a box of popcorn, a 6 pack of beer, 2 fantas, a box of coco puffs, and a water. The drinks add up to 35 dollars. You have 6 lbs of vegetables, 3 lbs of meat, and a pound of fruit left on your EBT card.)
“Gracias Miguel.”(Tanks Miguel)
“De nada. Que tengas una buen noche, o mañana. El tiempo es muy chiflado en este momento.”(You’re welcome. Have a good night, or morning. Time is really screwy right now.)
“Buenas noches a ti también”(Goodnight to you as well.)
With groceries in his bag, and fanta in hand, Juan walks out of the 7/11 towards his shared apartment. Jamie, after taking inventory in the back, comes back out as Juan is leaving.
“Hey Jam?” Miguel said?
“Yeah?” Jamie replied.
“Remember when Coke was everywhere?”
“Yep. I remember when it was ‘you have any Coke?’ ‘No, but is Pepsi Okay?’. Now, it’s just a fanta sea.”
“Why did you have to shoehorn that in?”
“I at least tried to-”
“No, no you didn’t”
“Anyways, how was the downtime customer?.”
“He was a bit lost on where to get groceries, but he was a nice guy.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“It sure is. But anyways, about the Fanta thing...”
10 Freeway - Baldwin Park
“All units, suspect has fled the scene in a green 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Suspect is armed and extremely dangerous.”
The police radio flared to life as the Chevy Caprice Interceptor, containing Officer Luis and his downtime ride along James, thundered down the highway.
“You’re about to witness the Californian Blood Sport: The car chase.” said Luis.
“You’re telling me that this is NORMAL?” James replied.
“Welcome to California bub.”
It didn’t take long for the Caprice to catch up to the Cutlass.
“I’m going to have to do a PIT maneuver.” Luis said
“Does that involve pits?” James asked.
“Usually no.”
The cruiser does a PIT maneuver on the Cutlass, making it swerve off the shoulder and into a small pit.
“Okay, maybe this time it involved a pit.”
“Guess I’m not wrong” James said, trying not to crack up
Luis and James get out of the car and run towards the Cutlass.
The suspect in the Cutlass bolted out of the car, trying to escape and hopefully steal the Caprice, but ends up getting taxed in the dick by Luis, before he handcuffs him and reads him his Miranda rights. After the suspect is taken in another car, James makes his way to Luis.
“I guess some things never change.” James said.
“That idiots will be idiots?” Luis asked.
“That and having to chase down suspects.”
“Huh, never thought of that.”
“Although in my personal opinion, your crooks are more exciting than my crooks back in Boston. No wonder why car chases are a blood sport here.”
[SIZE]
The Californian Political Podcast: Episode 138: The inevitable legal conflict between Uptime and Downtime April 16, 1852, Youtube[/SIZE]
CalifornianTory, ValentineLocke, ModeratorGray
CalifornianTory: … and the spending on Newsom’s Vision 1875 will explode, and probably when the whole legal apocalyse goes off, Weimar Germany anyone?
ValentineLocke: Oh please, what else could the government do? You hate GrizzlyComm consolidating the telecoms and nationalizing them but what was the alternative? Vision 1875 does have a tall order but this isn’t about GOP or DNC, this is about having a 21st century global economy continue to function without the global supply chain. Although I concede, have issues with the Legal apocalypse, something the Attorney General’s been mum about.
ModeratorGray: Well let’s talk about that. Perhaps briefly for our listeners you can explain the upcoming legal apocalypse as you both called it. I think getting any Republican and Democrat to agree is noteworthy. Valentine you want to go first?
ValentineLocke: Gladly. The upcoming legal apocalypse has to do with how the State of California acquires land outside of the State of California. Vision 1875 promises rails and highways out to Salt Lake City, Eugene, and Santa Fe.
CalifornianTory: ...along with Hoover Dam, Building airports anywhere they can and sending the Roosevelt halfway around the world. For once though we aren’t debating recognition of downtime native americans though.
ValentineLocke: Right this has solely to do with interacting with the Downtime United States.
CalifornianTory: Ah! Start right there. We are not separate from the government in Washington DC.
ValentineLocke: Is it Pelosi’s or Fillmore’s picture in Federal Offices these days?
CT: Pelosi’s obviously, but it shouldn’t. We are part of the United States of America, in all honesty Pelosi should have resigned when reconnected with Washington legally at least.
VL: Practically, that was never going to happen. Protect and Defend the Constitution, Fillmore didn’t swear to defend about 15 other amendments.
CT: But with Pelosi still maintaining herself as President of the Federal Remnant it’s a problem. In effect the Uptime United States is a pretender federal government, one that dwarfs anything in DC, and that’s a whole other headache.
VL: Really you are going to bring up legitimacy? So long HHS, Energy, Education, Defense, VA, and…
MG: Val…
CT: But the remnant isn’t.
MG: Tory, Val please. What is the particular legal apocalypse regarding land use
VL: Executive Order 14558. The Bureau of Land Management transfers a lot of unused federal land to the State of California.
CT: That’s problematic but not the apocalypse. The apocalypse is that Federal Land outside California is under homesteader rules. The Uptime Federal Government can’t buy it because well… the Downtime Federal Government owns it.
VL: Enter Sacramento, and the compact with Salt Lake. The land along the I-80 and about 5 miles to either side of it is sold to California for railway development. A bunch of other sections covering most of what’s now Bishop county, also was purchased. I imagine the Downtime Mormons will be pissed about Virginia city, but California buys land and then resells it in State if it wants.
CT: That’s the sticky issue, it has no precedent Downtime, a State acquiring land for infrastructure development outside its own state, In effect California’s easternmost extent is now the trading outpost in Salt Lake, and by 1856 the terminus of the California Zephyr. This normally wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for California requiring the Uptime Constitution being enforced in the new territories.
VL: In effect, California is not following the downtime constitution. Slaves aren’t allowed because of the 13th amendment so if a slave boards a Californian plane, they are free, Dixiecrat objection or not, if you listen to the 9th circuit. The land use will get us in trouble in DC, not the NAACP funding a 757 to fly to Camp Springs empty and come back filled with fleeing slaves.
CT: and the Taney Court will rule the Federal remnant illegitimate, along with 9th circuit and California has to cede back Utah Territory land to DC.
VL: ...which Pelosi, Newsom, Harris or Jones won’t.
CT: … and then we get the secessionist crisis in the 1850s. It’s just we never formally seceded but we effectively are.
VL: and then we will have effectively annexed part of the Utah territory at least the I-80, Clark county, and Bishop county.
MG: Bishop County?
CT: Oh right… yeah… California already forged a county government in Utah territory. It’s basically a monster county, sorta matching the combined borders of Storey, Douglas, Carson, and Lyon counties of pre-event Nevada, and that’s apocalypse Part 2.
VL: Where do the residents of New Reno, New Fallon, and Sierra Madre get political representation?
CT: ...and what happens when enough people move into Bishop county that they could petition for Statehood.
VL: Can you imagine the crisis in DC if there are now two Uptimer states? California and New Nevada?
CT: If the land use doesn’t get the Congress involved, Congress will definitely get involved there. California expanding…
VL: or if Bishop petitions the Federal remnant for Statehood?
CT: please don’t remind me… the headaches… ultimately slave catchers getting shot in Maryland won’t cause the inevitable conflict with DC… it will be land use.
VL: Technically it’s legal…
CT: It’s only legal because of loose homesteader laws saying the land is anyone’s whoever develops it. DC will have to adjust for 150 years of Federal Land use in two years or so, and that will bring the legitimacy crisis. Pelosi’s Federal remnant after two years is a dead letter. Once more of the uptime federal departments complete their transfer to State offices, rationalization, and debt cancellation there’s no point having Pelosi be President. The Moscone government collapses
VL: We can’t get representation in Congress, at least in DC, and the Dixiecrats never will let that happen. Hell if it wasn’t for the plainclothes security detail that Huffman had, he might have been beaten by those Dixiecrats on the House Floor. The legal apocalypse is coming
CT: and it will be coming sooner rather than later. More and more DC will fear what’s on the other side of those Rockies…
VL: ...and then they’ll do something stupid.
CT: … we flick them like mosquitoes.
VL: ...and the New California Republic is born
CT: Really… Fallout? We’ll be the Republic of California probably. Hell that’s what’s printed on the rainbow money.
VL: Regardless, things are tense, Newsom’s going to make a visit to DC with Pelosi this summer. Watch for the fireworks.
———
Special thanks to my Co-writers Firebringer2077 and
@Rise Comics for their contributions.